


Ladybugs in Leather

by amaziegrace



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe - Grease, Alternate Universe - Greasers, F/F, F/M, High School, M/M, Mutual Pining, Mutually Unrequited
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-09-23 15:37:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9663866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amaziegrace/pseuds/amaziegrace
Summary: "But now there's nowhere to hide, since you pushed my love aside..."When Adrien and Marinette meet over the summer, it's love at first sight--Marinette is ecstatic to be moving into a town with someone so amazing, and Adrien is relieved to have someone he doesn't have to pretend around. Then, school starts: Adrien falls into his long-standing persona of Chat Noir, resident bad boy at Françoise Dupont High, and Marinette is devastated to see her summer love hiding behind smirks, wise cracks, and leather jackets. Will her new-girl innocence pull him away from the identity he worked so hard to create, or will their love be ripped at the seams?





	1. Prologue

The sun was just beginning to set, a perfect circle of white in a dusty pink sky. It cast a soft, shimmering glow on everything below it--the gently crashing waves, the warm sand beginning to scatter in the even warmer breeze, and the two lovers standing at the water’s edge. Hands clasped, eyes locked on each other: a silence bubbling with promise.

“This is it. Isn’t it?”

The silence was broken by the smaller of the two, a strong-looking black-haired girl in a bubblegum bathing suit. There was fear in her eyes, and sadness, and all the other emotions that came with saying goodbye. They lessened slightly when the other, a blonde and lean boy in blue swim trunks straight out of a teenage magazine, squeezed her hands. Their connection was suddenly infused with warmth and assurance. “It doesn't have to be,” he replied, a crooked smile dawning on his glowing face.

The smile, which had so filled the girl’s dreams and sweetened her days immeasurably, was not contagious this time. “But how can it not be?” she asked, emotions flooding back to her blue almond eyes. “It’s the last day of summer, and we’re going to different schools.”

The boy tried hard, as hard as he possibly could, to not succumb to emotion. But he, too, was worried for the future, and on top of that, he hated seeing this girl upset. Her smile was like sunshine, her laugh like windchimes twinkling on a bright spring day, and he felt cold in the absence of her light. “We’ll be seeing each other,” he said, fighting to keep the smile locked into place. “I promise.”

It worked: finally, the softest hint of a smile began to grow, and he felt warmer in the process, a warmth that could not be attributed to the slowly setting sun.

They remained this way for a long while: hands clasped tight, talking and smiling and willing the time to stop, but the white circle slowly became yellow, then orange, then a bloodsoaked red, dipped halfway into the ocean, crumbling into mush. And the lovers were growing worried: would they see each other again? When? And would it be the same, tinged with the same soft and glowing magic so expected of a brief but passionate summer romance?

The questions whirled, as did the emotions. It was becoming hard to take: they stared into each other’s eyes, silent, dangerously unsure. Teetering on the high, steep edge of tears.

And then, the boy did something that he had never done before.

He moved his hands away from hers. She gasped at their absence, but before she really had the chance to miss them, he had them placed gently on either side of her face, soft fingers caressing blushing cheeks.

The gap between them was small, but it was still a shock for all involved when he bridged it. When he leaned close enough to feel the heat of her skin. When he kissed her.

It was just like every other aspect of their love--warm, close, passionate. Innocent, with the hesitation of nervousness and the second-guessing of inexperience. Slightly damp from hours spent playing by the water’s edge. And, more than anything, fleeting.

They pulled away, breathing heavily and hungrily. They wanted more. They did not know what the protocol was. Even so, they stayed close; the gap was nothing more than a fingernail’s space between their noses. And they stayed silent, though it was different this time. Before, the silence had been tense and breakable, waiting to be interrupted by a word or two. Now, no one had to say anything.

“I...I’ve had a great summer, Marinette.” 

The boy broke the silence anyway, crooked smile returning in full force. He meant the words--he  _ needed _ her to hear them,  _ needed _ her to feel his lips against his, before they parted ways. It was important. She was important. Together, they were more important than anything in the world.

In front of him, Marinette grinned in elation, cheeks still rose-colored from the shock. “Me, too,” she said. And then, she did something that she had never done before.

This kiss lasted a little longer, was a little steadier and a little less nervous. It didn’t satisfy their hunger, but at that point, they both knew that nothing would. When they pulled away, though, they smiled--it was right. Their lips were right, the gentle ocean licking at their ankles was right, the setting sun was right. All was right, and they were happy.

“Adrien?”

“Yes?”

She knew what she wanted to say. She knew what had been blossoming on her tongue from the moment she’d seen him, and she knew what had finally bloomed and was ready to burst. But she also knew what she had to say, and though it made her stomach clench to think of it, she knew she had to put their story to an end.

“I have to go,” she said.

He nodded. A part of him, the part that he would lock away and never address in the time to come, would hope for the same thing that she had wanted. But he didn’t say anything regarding that; he simply said, “I know.”

Before either of them knew it, they had pulled each other into a hug. Marinette’s cheek was pressed firmly against Adrien’s chest, bare and warm in the summer sun, and Adrien had nestled his chin into Marinette’s hair. He stopped himself from kissing it; there was no time.

“We  _ will _ see each other again,” he whispered. “I promise.”

Against his beating heart, he felt her nod. “I trust you,” she said. “I just wish we didn’t have to say goodbye.”

He looked down on her, willing that same crooked smile to reappear, just this once. Just for her. “Then we won’t.”

She tightened her hold on him, and he on her. “But--”

“Shhh,” he whispered, even softer now, but she could hear him clear as the rapidly disappearing day. “No goodbyes. Just…‘until next time’.” He pulled away, so she could see his face, all smiles and genuineness. “Okay?”

It took a moment’s composure, but in no time at all, she had a smile to match his. “Okay.”

As the sun hid fully behind the horizon, their hands were clasped once more. Their thumbs ran little lines across the backs of each other’s hands, and, if some sudden danger had befallen them, their eyes still would not have been torn from the impenetrable gaze they shared. But there wasn’t, and that made the moment even sweeter: they were safe, and they were content, and they were deeply and madly in love.

“Until next time, Marinette,” he said with a smile.

“Until next time, Adrien,” she replied, eyes filled with wonder and adoration.

They said goodbye and parted ways under the deep blue sky, hands and lips and hearts aching in the absence of their mates. If only they had known that the next time would occur in the blink of an eye, when neither of them would expect it.

Unfortunately, it would also occur when neither of them would be ready.


	2. Grease is the Word

The halls had been waxed over the summer. Each linoleum tile gleamed under scathing fluorescent light, showing pristine reflections of sneakers and Mary Janes in the floor below.

If he looked at the right angle, Adrien Agreste could just make out his own face. His sleepy green eyes, his freshly greased hair. He looked like the bad guy in a public service announcement. He looked _cool_.

In these halls, they called him Chat Noir. He didn’t know why, but the name had stuck one day, and he’d be lying if he said he didn't love it. The black cat--fast, cunning, quick-thinking. Irresistible. As he surveyed his face in the shining linoleum, he was pleased to see that he looked exactly like Chat Noir, and not a bit like Adrien Agreste. So far, his senior year was going exactly as planned.

An arm wrapped around his leather-coated shoulder, and he jumped, only to look to his left and see a grinning Nino Lahiffe. Nino’s smile was an infectious one, and it could mean trouble in the right situations, but most of the time, it simply promised a good time. Besides, any situation in which anyone seemed happy to see him was good news to Adrien. It had been a long summer without--

No. Not without. A girl smiled at him like that, a sweet and beautiful girl. And he didn’t even have to wear any leather or made any wisecracks to make it happen.

He pushed these thoughts out of his mind, against the wishes of head and heart alike: that was the summer. This was the fall. That was the beach, and this was high school, and he couldn’t pine after a private school girl anymore. He couldn’t be Adrien Agreste anymore.

“Hey, buddy,” he said, slapping his own hand against his friend’s back. “Where’ve you been all summer?”

“Working for my dad,” Nino said with a sigh and an eyeroll, the kind that could only come from an adolescent boy deprived of diners and drive-ins and dames.

“Ah, moving all those furniture boxes, sounds like a fun time,” Adrien replied with a sarcastic lilt, but on the inside, he was thanking his lucky stars that he didn’t have to spend the summer with his father. He was so relieved that he didn’t even feel the light punch to the arm that he was subsequently victim to.

Nino waited for his friend to regain his balance before countering. “And just what fun times were you up to?” he asked, grin only increasing. “Nobody saw you all summer, either. Where were you?”

Adrien was about to reply when an ear-splitting crackle signalled an incoming announcement from Principal Damocles. The first day of school could never happen without it, but the hallway filled with groans anyway.

Adrien didn’t actually hear what the principal said, at first, because an even lighter punch made a slight indentation in the leather just below where Nino’s hand had been, and Nathanaël Kurtzberg had materialized at his right. His smile was outshone by the blood red sun in his hair, as usual, but all who knew him well that he was truly happy to see them, and Adrien’s--no, Chat Noir’s ego grew even higher as a result.

“Hey, Nath,” Adrien said with what he silently imagined to be a cat-like grin.

“Hey, Tomato Sauce, how was your summer?” Nino asked, leaning across Adrien to ensure that Nathanaël could hear perfectly. In response, Nathanaël expertly reached across the now-shortened gap, grabbed Nino’s glasses, and placed them on his own head, grinning smugly as Nino cried, “Hey!”

“These fit me pretty nicely,” Nathanaël said in reply. “I think I’ll keep them.”

“You little--I need those!” Nino practically screamed. “To see!”

Adrien, laughing, waved a hand in front of Nathanaël’s face. “Come on, can you even see in those things?” he asked. “We all know Lahiffe’s blind as a bat.”

Nathanaël looked towards Nino with a smirk. “I can see well enough to know how much he’s squinting,” he said.

They shared a laugh. With light fumes of anger, Nino stuck a leg out in front of Adrien, causing him to trip. “Least I’m not clumsy as a cat,” he said, and the laughter increased for all but Adrien, who focused all of his energy on regaining his balance. He pushed down the part of him that panicked, slightly, thinking that someone had seen, someone would mock him, someone would remove him from his perch. _That’s ridiculous_ , he told himself. _You’re just having fun. You’re still Chat Noir_.

 _You’re still Chat Noir_.

When the laughter died down, they could just hear Principal Damocles’ voice. “...and have those in by the end of the week,” he said, finishing an instruction they’d never obey. “And now, with a special first-day-of-school announcement, here’s your valedictorian, Sabrina Raincomprix, and your student body president, Chloé Bourgeois!”

The groans turned into howls of rage, and Adrien’s hands balled into fists. Those were _not_ the voices he needed to hear right then. If there was anything that could truly shake his feelings of Chat Noirness, it was hearing the voice of the girl who had once been his best friend. He was suddenly aware of students looking at him, most likely because it had been a long summer and they hadn’t seen the local gang’s leader in a while, but he couldn't help but feel as though they watched him for a different reason. As though they were watching to see what he’d do.

He bit his lip, drawing a speck of crimson to the surface as some shuffling of papers occurred over the loudspeaker. “Good morning, class!” Sabrina said, voice bright and lilting. “And welcome back to school! I know you all have mixed feelings about leaving the summer behind, but I know it’s going to be a great year, and I urge _everyone_ to try their best in all their classes, and to have fun and maybe make some new friends! I--”

“A _hem_.”

Adrien’s expression of concern turned into a scowl. He liked Sabrina. Sure, she was much too peppy for this time of the morning, but it was impossible to not be at least a little motivated by her speeches. Chloé had no business interrupting her, and the whole class knew it: next to him, Nino was glaring up at the loudspeaker above, and Nathanaël was practically growling. Of course, Chloé Bourgeois had broken all of their hearts at one point or another, and that certainly didn’t help matters.

Through the static, there was more paper shuffling, along with a series of murmured apologies. Then, in a voice of sickly sweet sugarcane: “Good morning! I hope everyone had a fun summer, and I’m so excited to serve as your president in my last year here. Let’s make it the best one yet!”

As the static faded, one could barely hear her go on, in the same drippingly sweet falsetto, “Short and sweet, Sabrina, you can’t just--” And then it was over.

“I want to go home,” Nino said.

Adrien reached his arms around and brought Nino and Nathanaël towards him, smiling to make the physicality less awkward and more...brotherly. It was the sort of thing that only someone like him could get away with, so admired and dangerous and untouchable. But he didn’t care about that, not now--he just cared about making his friends happy again.

“Don’t worry,” he said as he dragged them down the hallways alongside him. “The day’s just begun. We’ll have the time of our lives in no time.”

“The best year yet,” Nathanaël said, dripping sarcasm and wry smiles. They shared another laugh, and then, it was business as usual.

***

On the other side of the school, Alya Césaire was putting a new stack of notebooks--blue, pink, green, and yellow, one for every two of her classes that day--in her locker when her shoulder was tapped. She whirled around, only to see a small, wide-eyed girl, black hair in pigtails and a kind but flighty smile on her face.

“Good morning,” Alya said, unsure of what the girl was doing. Strangers didn’t approach her in the hallway, not usually--she wasn’t that kind of girl. Her friends were, some of them, but not her.

“Oh! Good morning!” the girl said, with a tiny wave. “Um...I’m a little lost, I was just…” She held out a crumpled piece of paper, eight classes printed on it in barely-dried ink.

Oh.

Alya looked at the paper, then breathed a sigh of relief; she didn’t know if she’d have been able to forgive herself if she couldn’t help this poor girl out. “Oh, you’re going to Physics,” she said, smile growing effortlessly. “So am I, you can just follow me.”

The girl practically gasped out of excitement. “Thank you!” she said, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet. She was adorable. Where did such a cute and sprightly little thing come from? Certainly not from the rowdy, fight-strewn halls of this place. But that was a question for when the new girl’s first late detention wouldn’t be Alya’s fault.

“You’re welcome,” Alya said as she began a brisk walk to class, her usual pace, but she let up when she noticed the girl having to jog to catch up. _She’ll learn_. “I’m Alya, by the way. What’s your name?”

“Marinette,” she said. “It’s nice to meet you, Alya!”

So sincere, so sweet. Alya wondered how long it would last. Still, she couldn’t help but smile as she replied, “It’s nice to meet you, too, Marinette.”

It was true: she liked her, already, a rarity for her. She just hoped her friends would feel the same.


End file.
